Metal Heart

Violently beaten-up, purple bruises on silver metal,

Cold heart of steel dented like a pony's flank,

Brass tubes of blood pump, a mechanical pulse,

You can't hurt this one, you can't break this heart.


Gloss over the damage in silver-leaf,

A worthless object plated in the melted-down remains,

Of anything that used to mean something,

The talent I thought I possessed drowns in molten-metal.


You jeer, you say it's a freak's revenge on a world who loathed her,

You call these scars self-harm,

I call them blurring the divides between normality and suicide,

But my graceless demise is none of your feigned concern,

Don't insult me by pretending that you give a damn.


We both know that I'm dead to you.



The End

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